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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25820215">A Shared Meal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoshatesme/pseuds/hypnoshatesme'>hypnoshatesme</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Embrace Insanity [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(I've been DYING to use that tag again), OC I guess since i gave the meal a name, Other, Spiral Gerry, memory loss and general mental distress, the meal isn't., they're just having a good time :), why monster boyfriend when you can have monster boyfriends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:49:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25820215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoshatesme/pseuds/hypnoshatesme</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Is there anything more romantic than sharing a meal you prepared together (in an unnecessarily convoluted manner)?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Embrace Insanity [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Shared Meal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The shop wasn’t anything special, really. It blend in with the street, just another small, somewhat rustic looking store, sandwiched between one that sold all kinds of oddities and another shop that smelled of spices and incense. Despite it blending in seamlessly, there was something about it that was inviting, the door beckoning to be opened. It wasn’t uncommon for people to walk into the shop without previously having had the intention to do so. </p><p>It wasn't uncommon for some of these to never walk out again.</p><p> </p><p>Nicole, however, had approached the shop with a purpose and when the door opened with the ring of a bell, she smiled as she stepped inside. For her, the door did lead into the shop. That wasn’t always the case.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Are you getting that?” Gerry mumbled from where he was sitting working on his drawing.</p><p>Michael suddenly was behind him, one hand coming to rest of Gerry’s shoulder. It was heavy, but when Gerry looked at it it looked human. He looked up at its face. “What’s it going to be today?”</p><p>“Hm…” Michael inclined its head a little, as if to listen. Gerry watched as its features softened, rearranged themselves to look as human as its hand. “Today, I’m a friend.”</p><p>A grin played on Gerry’s lips, a little too wide. He’d fix that when the time came. It had been a while since they had had a customer that wanted to see him. He didn’t mind, not really. But occasionally, it made for some fun. He returned the quick kiss Michael bent down to give him before going back to drawing as Michael left the room and walked into the shop.</p><p> </p><p>Nicole was admiring some of the framed drawings in the far corner. She had come for something specific, but maybe she was changing her mind. Had she really come with something in mind in the first place? She wasn’t so sure anymore.</p><p>“Hello,” a lilting voice came from the back of the room and Nicole looked up, unsure about where she was for a split second. “Can I help you?”</p><p>The man that appeared was tall, blond curls in a loose bun and a pair of round glasses on a somewhat crooked nose. His face was round and inviting, much like the door to the shop. She frowned at that strange comparison, unsure where it had come from. It was way too warm for the dark green turtleneck he wore, but Nicole had seen weirder in shops like these. He looked plain, really, compared to the sort she usually ran into. And most importantly, he didn’t look like Gerard Keay and she found herself wondering whether she <em> was </em> in the right place after all. The artstyle within the frames all around her was unmistakably his. She had never heard of him having company.</p><p>Though, then again, what <em> had </em> she heard about Gerard Keay? It never really added up. Sometimes she wasn’t sure if she ever heard of him at all. It was part of the reason she was here, after all. To finally solve that mystery. Still, she was fairly sure this wasn’t him. Why she felt so sure she didn’t know, and maybe ‘sure’ wasn't quite the appropriate term. </p><p>“Hello, uh…” Her eyebrows drew together as she tried to remember what she wanted to say. “You’re not Gerard Keay, are you?” She cringed at her own rudeness. She hadn’t intended to sound so curt.</p><p>The man, however, seemed unbothered by her tone, amused, even. He laughed and the sound made her skin pickle. </p><p>“Just helping with the shop so he can work,” he answered, vaguely waving towards a door Nicole hadn’t noticed before, despite having looked at that exact spot more than once since coming in. Her eyes had felt strangely drawn to it. Her confusion about that detail was quickly brushed away by the man's gesture and its implications.</p><p>“So, he’s in? Can I...talk to him?” Nicole wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted to say. She wasn’t sure if she had ever had a plan. She had thought this through at some point, hadn’t she?. But did it really matter? Not when she could meet the artist behind the pieces she had been admiring for so long. Had it been that long? Nicole actually didn’t know but she was very excited at the prospect of meeting him, so it must have been.</p><p>Something was wrong with the smile the man gave her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it before she decided that it looked perfectly friendly, actually. Probably the light. It seemed to be catching in the man’s glasses, making his eyes appear to change colour, too, as he spoke, “I’ll get him for you, just a moment.”</p><p>Nicole nodded, watching as the man disappeared behind the door. </p><p>Had she tried leaving herself, she would have noticed that the door to the street was no longer there. But Nicole didn’t turn around, eyes trained on the door to what she assumed was some kind of backroom. She was anxious. Of course she was, she told herself. She had been excited for this. That must be it. She was so excited it was starting to make her feel somewhat eerie. </p><p> </p><p>Gerry looked up when he heard - felt - Michael entering the room again. It hadn't left that long ago and he raised an eyebrow. “A fan, then?”</p><p>Michael gave him a grin that was all teeth. “Quite eager one at that.”</p><p>“Equally nervous?" He got up from his chair, walking up to Michael, who drew him into a hug, pressing their lips together for a moment before looking into his eyes. Gerry had schooled them into their dark brown, his grin a perfectly appropriate size for his face as he directed it at Michael.</p><p>“You know how it goes as soon as they step in here,” it said with a wink, running its fingers through his still hair. </p><p>Gerry struggled very little with passing for human when he wanted to. Then again, he had been closer to human than Michael so it made sense, it guessed. It had come in handy more than once.</p><p>Gerry nodded and pressed a kiss to its chin before stepping out of the embrace. He nodded towards the door with a grin. “After you.”</p><p>Michael returned the grin, squeezing his hand for a moment - it felt so very much as it used to, the weight barely noticeable. He was always thorough - before walking back into the shop, Gerry following closely.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>This time it was two people who emerged from the door, first the one that had left a moment before, then another man, shorter and sturdier with dark eyes and darker hair, some kind of washed-out, swirly tattoos on his throat and fingers. Gerard Keay. Not that Nicole had every seen him, but it suddenly occurred to her that she had definitely heard him being described. By whom or when she did not know. </p><p>Another thing she didn't know was what to say with him eyeing her so intensely. Not necessarily expectantly, but rather like he was sizing her up, analyzing her. The fact that the blond guy was also looking at her wasn't making it any easier. That one wasn’t scrutinizing her, but there was something unsettling in his easy smile, his soft eyes. She was glad when he decided to walk further into the shop, leaving her alone with who she now was sure to be Gerard Keay.</p><p> </p><p>"You wanted to, uh...talk?" Gerry decided to break the silence. Somewhat awkward seemed to be the most fitting approach to go with this time around. </p><p>She nodded vigorously. "Yes! I mean, I heard so much of you-" had she? She frowned for a moment, before dismissing her doubts. "And, of course, I'm a big fan and I've always wondered who, uh…the face behind the art was, I guess."</p><p>Gerry nodded. The conversations usually started similarly, which was rather boring. Things tended to get more interesting when the shop and Gerry's and Michael’s presence started to properly get to the customer. </p><p>He smiled. He knew how to set them off by now. “How did you find my work?”</p><p>Nicole froze at the question, suddenly unsure about what they were talking about. She looked around, which wasn’t too helpful, thought she wasn’t exactly sure what she had expected. Vaguely, her hazy mind tried to think about the words. The work. The framed pictures all around her, yes. She did know them. Or did she? How? When? She wasn’t sure.</p><p>“I...I don’t- don’t think…?”</p><p>Gerry raised an eyebrow, pulling his features into a mask of polite confusion. Though considering her state she would’ve probably said nothing if he’d had let the grin slip onto his lips. He liked to play his part properly, though, unsettling them with their own words rather than his appearance. They still picked up on the underlying wrongness, of course. But it was never enough for them to actually figure that out before he was done.</p><p>She blushed at that, apologising profusely as she rubbed the back of her head, trying to focus before speaking up again, making up some sort of story that sounded as improbable as it sounded possible about how she came to find Gerry’s art. For all Gerry knew, it could have been exactly what Michael had planted in her mind. It liked to get creative with how it lured possible customers in.</p><p> </p><p>Michael watched as they chatted. She was babbling - they did that a lot; Michael preferred that to the ones that simply shut down right away. No fun - and Gerry was listening politely, keeping up his awkward air. He was starting to tap his fingers against his side, eyes wandering back to the door he had come out of. As fun as this was, Gerry was starting to look forward to wrapping this up, the anticipation for what was to come palpable. For Michael, at least. It was a shared feeling, even though Michael’s patience didn’t run quite as thin as Gerry’s. It caught his gaze, his eyes bright and grin wide only for a blink of a moment. Michael’s mirrored grin stayed on its face even when he looked back at the customer again. </p><p> </p><p>Nicole was too nervous to notice the exchange, eyes distracted by Gerry’s drumming fingers instead. It was really difficult to tell what those tattoos were supposed to be, if they even were tattoos. There was so little ink on some of the knuckles and she was starting to wonder if it might just be dirt. Would that even make sense?</p><p>She started picking up on Gerry’s restlessness, his discomfort becoming too obvious even for somebody as confused as she was to miss. He was fidgeting, eyes darting to the door again and again.</p><p>“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m keeping you from work, aren’t I?” She blushed, looking somewhat guilty. The crease between her brows didn’t disappear. What had she even been talking about? How long had she kept him here?</p><p>Gerry gave her an apologetic smile. “I...kind of, yeah. Sorry.”</p><p>“No, I...I apologise! I only...I just want to buy...something. And then I’ll leave you be.”</p><p>“Michael takes care of the sales. Numbers are his thing.” He waved vaguely towards Michael. It was a lie, obviously. Neither of them cared much for numbers.</p><p>As Nicole turned around to follow the gesture, confused about who he was talking about - there had been nobody else in the shop, right? - he gave her a last, fleeting smile before going through the back door again. </p><p>Her eyes widened for a moment when she spotted Michael adjusting some of the frames on the wall.<em> Of course </em> there had been the blond guy. How had she forgotten about him already? He wasn’t <em> that </em>plain. She turned back, intending to thank Gerard, but he was gone. Her eyebrows drew together, wondering if he had actually been there in the first place. How long had she been in this shop?</p><p>“Do you know which one you’d like already?” Michael asked, interrupting her thought process, if that was even the right word for it.</p><p>She looked back towards the voice and he was standing much closer than he had a moment before. And yet, the frames around him seemed to be the exact same ones, like the wall had somehow come closer, too. Nicole shook her head. She probably needed some fresh air. Too much excitement.</p><p>“Yes, yes, uh...I mean, I do.” She pointed at what she thought was the drawing that had caught her eyes. She couldn’t be sure, they seemed to be swimming together in front of her eyes, somewhat.</p><p> </p><p>It only took minutes before she left the shop again with - probably - what she had come for. She didn’t remember paying, but there seemed to be money missing in her purse, so she assumed it had just been that weird headache she got while in there that had made her unsure about that. Her mind seemed to clear somewhat when she stepped outside and she smiled, happy with her purchase and the conversation she could barely remember having, the face of the man - had it been only one? - she had been talking to growing more and more out of focus as she made her way home. </p><p>Nicole had been wanting to run a couple more errands, but she couldn’t remember what. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Michael walked into the backroom after she was gone, finding Gerry back at his desk. It wrapped its arms around him from behind, once, twice before resting its head on Gerry’s.</p><p>“How was that for an appetizer?”</p><p>Gerry chuckled. “Good. She was easy.”</p><p>“I didn’t even have to do anything to make her take one of them home…”</p><p>Nobody left the shop without one of the drawings, but sometimes they needed some convincing, which was usually Michael’s job. Gerry much preferred watching - something Michael never stopped teasing him about. Not that it minded. It must be extra frustrating for the Beholder to see how it had missed out on somebody this perfect - or occasionally making for some confusing conversation with particularly enthusiastic customers. Michael was better at the finer twistings that made people buy things they had never wanted without any actually buying being involved.</p><p>Gerry craned his head back, a bit too far to realistically be comfortable. He grinned up at Michael’s hovering face. “You sound disappointed.”</p><p>Michael pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Can’t have it all every time, I guess.”</p><p>Gerry closed his eyes, enjoying the kiss, before mumbling, “How long?”</p><p>“Not very, I reckon.” It ran its fingers through Gerry’s smooth locks. Some strands lazily twisted around its fingers. “I’ll take care of the shop.”</p><p>He hummed, nodding - which looked somewhat off at the angle his head still was in. “I’ll go back to ‘work’, then.”</p><p>“Do that.” Michael pulled his head back just a little further, short fingers fisting in his hair. The kiss was short, but lingering at the same time, barely-contained excitement passing between their lips.</p><p> </p><p>As Michael walked back into the shop, the building disappeared, in a fashion. It was still there, plain, the same as every other shop on the street, door an inviting shade of yellow. At the same time, there had never been a shop between the one selling oddities and the one selling spices. They had always been direct neighbours, and would always be so. Until the next person felt drawn to the yellow door that clearly didn't exist, that is.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Gerry’s hand stilled over his drawing, when he felt a familiar tingling under his skin, a kind of pleasant warmth spreading through him. "It's starting, isn't it?"</p><p>Michael jumped off the chair it was perching on with a nod. "It is." It held out its hand to him, fingers and palm long and sharp again. Gerry looked up at it in time to watch its hair freeing itself from the bun to whip and curl around its face, glasses gone as its eyes went back to kaleidoscopic messes.</p><p>Gerry's hand wasn't quite human, either, as he put it into Michael's, too sharp fingers threading themselves through Michael’s long ones. He smiled and got up, watching - feeling - the yellow door appear right next to the desk.</p><p>Michael brought Gerry’s hand to its lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, a pleasant buzzing sensation against Gerry’s skin, that didn’t quite feel as it had earlier. Michael gave him a wide grin before opening the door. </p><p>"After you,” it mumbled against his hand, motioning to the door.</p><p>"Thank you." Gerry returned the grin, squeezing its hand before taking a step through the door. </p><p>The door shut behind them and disappeared. In the hallways the rest of their disguise fell away, distorted grins splitting their faces as they looked at each other. Gerry's eyes weren't quite right anymore, brown tinged with every colour and then some more, changes subtle but undeniable. His hair was similar, psychedelic shapes in colours not quite real twisting through the black, like rainbow on oil, as it moved and twisted around his face.</p><p>Michael’s hand went to that hair as it pressed him against the nearest wall, the hallway growing animated around them. Their lips crashed together and Gerry wrapped his arms around Michael’s neck, legs around its waist, pressing it flush against him.</p><p>There was something ecstatic about feeding when it started, when it was a target picked out and prepared. It wasn't the most intense part, not at all, but the first trickle of fear filled with promise of more to come, oozing into the hallway, into them, from them. It was <em> everywhere, </em>it was dizzying in the best way - which said a lot, dizzying was always good - only feeding the anticipation that set in as soon as they chose a new victim, not quite the full payoff for the effort, but the start of it, and it was <em> sensational </em>. </p><p>This was Gerry's favourite place to be during those first maddening moments, days, weeks, feeling the fear seep into his back from the wall he was pressed against, feeling it on Michael's not quite skin as he pulled it closer, tasting it on its tongue as much as Michael was tasting it on Gerry's.</p><p> </p><p>It was different every time, and Michael always liked mixing up how the drawings exactly fucked up everybody’s lives. Sometimes, it simply kept them awake until delusion came naturally - maybe a little more quickly than it would without the picture. Maybe they would start to worry about genetics catching up with them, maybe nothing looked right, felt right, ever again. They might start to forget things, lose them - or did they? - forget people, not recognise them or themselves. It all ended in different flavours of fear, but all delicious, nourishing,  all, at the base, the same. </p><p>It hadn’t yet decided on a direction for Nicole, never really did. As with how it often started, Nicole was looking back worriedly, at the blank memory she had of the day, fear amplifying as she seemed to remember less the more she thought about it. She was dressed to go outside. Had she been outside? She hadn’t spend any money, she had checked that. Twice. Why had she checked it twice? Why did she feel like there should be some missing? Something seemed wrong. Something <em> felt </em>wrong. </p><p>Nicole never noticed how she kept avoiding looking at one specific part of her living room wall. </p><p>It was just the beginning.</p><p> </p><p>Gerry pulled away from the kiss, not for breath - though he hadn’t quite lost the habit even if it was unnecessary now. He raked his hands through its hair, watching as Michael’s face got back into focus, edges fraying, dissolving into spiralling patterns. Michael always dissolved a little when feeding started. Never completely, it did like to match Gerry’s more solid form. </p><p>His body might have been a lot more forgiving when it came to how to move and twist it, but he couldn’t completely disintegrate. Maybe one day. It was always impossible to tell what exactly might happen to those giving themselves to the Spiral, what powers might manifest. Gerry was also the first proper avatar Michael made, so who knew where it might go with enough time spent as such. For now, they were both quite pleased with what they got.</p><p>“It started really quickly this time,” Gerry mumbled when its face was back in shape, eyes still barely keeping the bright, twisting shapes within from pouring out. </p><p>While Gerry’s sense of time certainly wasn’t what it had been - why would it? Time didn’t really matter to him now - he could still tell that she must have gotten home and put that picture on the wall swiftly. He hadn’t even gotten to finish his current one. Yes, she had been quite distressed in the shop, but the actual fear usually only really kicked in when the picture was up, in plain view, patterns carefully designed by Gerry twisting and curling with Michael’s influence, unfurling whatever maddening power the lines held.</p><p>“She was <em> really </em> eager to own one of yours.” Michael grinned, one hand moving down from his hair, over his shoulder and to his chest. It traced the messed-up tattoo over where Gerry’s heart had stopped beating a while ago - except when he wanted it to. It did help when he was going for human - little more than a swirl of ink left of the original motive of the eye, now unrecognisable. Michael quite enjoyed touching the ruined marks of the Watcher. </p><p>Gerry let out a pleased sigh, leaning into the touch. “Mhm...does she even remember it by now?”</p><p>It looked into his eyes. They were always eye-meltingly bright during this time, but Gerry obviously didn’t mind, his own changing colour quickly enough to cause a headache to anyone but them. </p><p>“Sometimes,” it said, grin going a little lopsided to fit on its face. “Never long enough to see it.”</p><p>Gerry laughed, and it did sound a lot like how it used to - not that he remembered it in too much detail, Gerry hadn’t had much reason to laugh in the last years of his life - but also utterly different, a cruel distorted version of what might have been a pleasant sound. It was Michael’s favourite thing to hear, to feel Gerry’s body shake with laughter against it. It made Michael laugh, too, hearing him like that, happy, as far as that word applied to them at all. It certainly felt happy that their little feeding game seemed to bring Gerry so much joy.</p><p> </p><p>They’d feel it over the weeks, months - rarely years - it would take to wear Nicole down, a steady flow of terror pulsing through the hallway and them, intoxicating, until she’d be too far gone to be afraid, to know what fear even was, closer to the End's domain than theirs.</p><p>Sometimes, they died before that point, body giving up before the mind could fully break apart. Occasionally, Michael would make them open the door and let them wander the hallways, dragging out the inevitable demise for as long as it entertained or fed it and Gerry. It was always a delight when putting them in the hallway somehow managed to make them afraid all over again. </p><p>The hallways were best for a quick meal outside of that. The customers of their shop were usually planned as a long, lingering one, and they’d let them be, let their lives fall apart all on their own without ever noticing that the source of all of it was proudly displayed on one of their walls. </p><p>They’d let Nicole reach the point where she lost all connection to reality and herself on her own. Then, they’d see. One way or another, she wouldn't live long beyond that point, a constant paranoia of losing it or having already lost it clawing at her every waking moment. Usually, those were all moments by that point. Even without Michael directly interfering with their sleep, few of the victims ever managed to rest towards the end. It was probably one of the most common causes of death for their customers.</p><p>Maybe Nicole would be the same, maybe she would find a more exciting way to perish, but until then she would make for a good meal and Gerry’s and Michael’s laughter mixed, two different shades of nightmare, fading into chuckles as their lips met again, gasps as too-sharp fingers ran over not-quite skin, as they relished in her fear, and each other.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I came up with Spiral Gerry on a whim but this was so much fun to write, I might revisit the concept at some point down the line...<br/>(I mean, if you have any ideas...I'm always eager to listen :))</p></blockquote></div></div>
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